


Fledgling Hearts

by Xyriath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Galra Empire, M/M, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 05:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15135743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: Keith, cousin to the Emperor and a scion of one of the wealthiest and influential families of the Galra Empire, should realistically have everything that he could ever want.But the privilege of money and status can't buy everything.  It can't buy the love and affection of an Avian slave, gentle and caring and kind, fated to eternally adorn the presence of a cruel and wealthy nobleman.  It can't buy the slave himself, not from the greedy grasp of that noble.And once that slave learns a secret that turns him into the greatest threat in the Empire, it can't buy a single thing to forestall the horrifying death that awaits him.Keith could lose everything by helping; he is under no illusion that doing so would be anything but the highest of treasons.But having everything else in the world means nothing without Shiro.





	Fledgling Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pichux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pichux/gifts).



> Written for Pichux for the Sheith Flower Exchange of 2018!
> 
> I was prompted for the following:  
> Alstroemeria - Devotion; Loyalty  
> Honeysuckle, Coral - The colour of my fate  
> Lily of the Valley - Return of happiness  
> Moonflower - Night; Instability  
> Venus’ Car - Fly with me  
> Volkamenia - May you be happy
> 
> And I sorta.... fit all of it in there. Enjoy!

For someone who knew he belonged here, Keith couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to be caught.

Truthfully, he wasn’t out of place in the slightest.  Young nobility roamed the halls of the palace at all hours of the night, basking in the privilege of revelry into the obscene hours of the morning and the luxury of sleeping as late as the body needed to be content.  Keith, dressed as he was in the black and red tailcoat with dramatic lacing up the back, holographic jewelry shifting subtly around his neck and wrists, could have easily been on his way to a number of gatherings.

But he had an entirely different destination in mind, and no amount of status or wealth would dig him out of this if he were caught.

He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

He nodded absently at the sentry-servants, whose robotic heads acknowledged him as he made his way towards his destination.  His appearance wasn’t out of place, after all; even the satchel around his shoulder could have very easily contained some exquisite alcohol.  When he was entirely certain he was no longer observed, he darted into a side corridor, pushed aside a tapestry, and opened the plain door behind it.

The nature of the unobtrusive servant’s routes enabled him to travel much more quickly without drawing unwanted attention.  His brisk stride became a quick jog, and he counted the doors he passed, feeling the urgency grow within him…

_There._

Though the lights at the corner of the door indicated inoperability, Keith had learned better in one of his many ventures alone through the palace.  The benefit of  having most of the Imperial servants be sentries was an absolute lack of inquisitiveness regarding  sealed off areas.

The same could not be said of bored, young nobility.  The fact that entering servant’s areas was frowned upon was deterrent enough for most, but Keith had never particularly cared what other people thought.

Keith strode forward, pushed open the door, and slipped inside alongside the brief sliver of light that he was afforded before closing it behind himself.  He sat in darkness for a few moments and listened.

The faintest rustle, like leaves or feathers, and Keith exhaled with relief.  With a quick flick of his wrist, the metal band around it emitted a holographic glow, lighting up rows upon rows of empty, dusty wine racks.  Keith inhaled through his mouth, trying to ignore the unpleasant smell of mildew in the air.

“Shiro?” he hissed as he stepped forward.  “It’s me!”

He heard no response, but as he continued to make his way to the very back of the wine cellar, he spotted a form huddled in the corner, then lifted his hand.

A pair of brilliant white wings unfurled from around the form, and as he looked, Keith’s gaze met the gray eyes of the most wanted criminal within the Galra Empire.

Keith sank to his knees, pulling the bag from his shoulder.  “I brought you some more food.  How are you feeling?”

Shiro’s eyes brightened at the mention of the word “food,” and he sat up, wariness shifting to eagerness.  “I’m all right.  My wing still hurts, but… it’s healing.”

Keith nodded solemnly.  “I brought more salve.  It should help.”

At Shiro’s grateful smile, Keith pressed the package into his hands.  “I don’t know when I’ll get back next.  Try to make it last a few days.”

“Mmhmm,” Shiro acknowledged through an already full mouth.  “Thank you so much.”

Keith settled in behind him, pulling the salve out.  “Spread them out?”

The white wings spread tentatively, and Keith didn’t miss the tremor in them as they stretched fully.  They still hurt, clearly, and the long, ugly burn slash across the right one from a Galra blaster made the reason why terribly obvious.

As Keith dipped his fingers in the salve, he took in the sight of Shiro’s back.  Though Shiro fit Keith’s father’s clothing, he had had to cut out nearly half of the back of the shirt to fit it on over the wings.  It left the upper half of that enticing body on display, and Keith had to keep from swallowing, to his eternal guilt, at the sight—and not just because of the way that his chest clenched at the thin scars that criss-crossed the tanned skin.  He did his best to keep his mind neutral, not let his eyes linger on the strong muscles rippling underneath, toned and defined from the necessity of supporting those elegant, unearthly wings.

He’d never owned an Avian.  His family preferred for its slaves to be “useful,” eschewing the ornamentation of the pretty creatures who were led around on collars in an attempt to flaunt status.  The Kogane family needed to remind no one of their close connection to the Emperor, Keith’s father had always said.  Perhaps it was for this reason that Avian slaves had always left Keith uncomfortable.

It hadn’t been until he had met Shiro that they had begun to leave him downright sick to his stomach.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on sentry schedules.”  His quiet voice pierced the stillness.  “Saturdays, I think, are going to be the best night to go.  They tend to be busier.  It’ll be easier to find some sort of distraction.  Blend in.”

Shiro inhaled shakily, and Keith could see the tension return to his shoulders.

“I’m gonna have to wear a collar again, aren’t I?”

The thought of leading Shiro across the grounds of the palace in a glittering collar and silks left Keith’s mouth dry.

“If… we can’t think of anything else, then yeah.  But I don’t want that.  I swear.”

When had it become so important what Shiro thought of him?

He pressed a gentle hand on Shiro’s shoulder, feeling it shake slightly beneath his fingers.  His thumb ran down to brush a feather almost accidentally.  Keith’s eyes flicked up to the back of Shiro’s neck, lingering on the scar that wrapped around it.

“I promise,” he managed, voice cracking slightly.  “I’ll keep you safe.  I… I won’t do that to you again.”

He watches those broad shoulders heave in a few deep breaths, and then a nod.

“I know, Keith.  I trust you.”

The heartfelt declaration left Keith’s head spinning.  Shiro trusted him.  Without protest.  Without hesitation.  Even though Keith knew exactly what Shiro had done.  What he could do.

Keith’s fingers finished rubbing the salve on the burn, and he wiped his hands clean.  He wanted to say something, anything, to Shiro, to let him know that he understood the gravity of the situation.

Because a slave who knew how to disable the collars that had been touted as unbreakable and impenetrable for centuries, a slave who was nowhere to be found, a slave who could spread that information across the Empire, could meet nothing but an agonizing fate if caught.  If he were lucky, they would only torture Shiro until he revealed how he had circumvented the collar’s programming, then put him down.  But if he weren’t…

Being stuffed and mounted in the Emperor’s grand halls would be a merciful punishment.

Any other Galra noble would be horrified at the notion of helping an escaped slave.  The Emperor would likely consider it treason.  But when the choice had come between Shiro’s safety and loyalty to the Emperor, Keith hadn’t even hesitated.

“I won’t let you down, Shiro.”

—

Sendak had never known why a cousin of the Emperor had taken an interest in his Avian slave.  He hadn’t particularly liked it, either, but hadn’t had a way to turn him down.  Keith knew that the assumption on his parents’ side seemed to just be Shiro’s attractiveness appealing to a virile young man.  He had done nothing to dissuade anyone of that impression.

Shiro, to his credit, hadn’t said anything.  He hadn’t breathed a word to anyone about their encounter on the parapets of the palace, the soft voice snapping Keith out of his entranced stare at the ground far below.

“ _Don’t._ ”

The words afterward had helped as well, of course.  The soothing comfort that Keith had so desperately needed, even if it came from a slave, the steady presence as he listened to Keith spill words of politics and plots and accusations and expectations.  But none of it had quite rocked Keith the way that first word had.

Because this slave, this captive, had cared.  He hadn’t had any idea who Keith was, what he had supposedly done.  He had seen one of his captors staring at the far-away ground, resignation in his eyes, and instead of rejoicing at the loss of one more of his oppressors, had stopped a tragedy.

Everyone else had expected Keith to do the honorable thing.  To come back from such political accusations was nearly unheard of, the easiest way to end the scandal being to end his own life.  But none of that had mattered to Shiro.

Keith had never met someone so committed to the inherent value of a life.  And weeks later, with new evidence coming to light and Keith’s exoneration ringing in his ears, Keith had decided that he now owed an unpayable debt.

When he had been questioned about Shiro’s escape and disappearance, the Emperor’s guards had taken his white, intent expression as fury at the betrayal.

But Keith had never been more afraid in his life.

—

At least, not until two days after his latest visit to Shiro.

“The prince’s wedding will need the _best_ ,” came the cold female voice.  “I don’t care how filthy it is.  If the wine cellars aren’t _all_ renovated by the end of the week, it’ll be your job for sure.  It might even be your _head._ ”

Saturday was no longer even close to an option.

Waiting the four hours for the palace’s activity to slow down nearly killed Keith—again.  But the moment he was able, he made his way immediately to the wine cellar that was Shiro’s sanctuary.

“It’s Keith!” he hissed urgently, knowing that Shiro wouldn’t be expecting him for another two days yet.  “We need to go.”

An anxious expression peered out from the darkness.  “Keith?  But it’s not… it’s still… has it been that long already?”

Keith’s stomach twisted at the knowledge that Shiro had spent so long down here that he didn’t even know how many days it had been.  But he didn’t have the time to worry about that.

“Plan’s changed.  Too long to explain.  They’ll be here soon—maybe even tonight.  Come _on._ ”

“My _wing_ ,” Shiro hissed in a low voice.  “I… I don’t think I can…”  Still, he rose, watching Keith with big eyes.

“Then we’ll get a speeder or something.”  He shook his head firmly.  “You’re getting out of here _tonight._ ”

Keith pulled out a collar, meeting Shiro’s eyes, and Shiro swallowed.

“You don’t think they’ll notice—”

Keith lifted another bag, this one full of coal dust, and he could see Shiro cringe.

“Okay,” he finally said.  “Let’s do this.”

Shiro trailing behind Keith on a lead left Keith with a distinct discomfort that was partially borne from how comfortable it _was._  But the dull gray of the wings and the hair tuft seemed to do the trick, and though they earned a few sidelong glances, nothing lingered too significantly.

Keith tried not to swallow at the thought that Shiro had grown used to drawing himself in, shrinking his presence despite his large form, refraining from meeting anyone’s eyes.  He wondered what Shiro had looked like before all this, before the Galra had taken him captive and sold him as an ornament to wealthy nobility.  Something about his presence had always struck Keith as that of a leader, though he had never asked.

He imagined Shiro in the hardy, revealing, unrestricting leathers of free Avians, the spear of one of their clan leaders’ in hand, gesturing instruction at his people.

He had no idea what the everyday life of a free Avian might be like, and guilt twisted in his gut for never asking, even though he doubted Shiro would have wanted to share.  He supposed he would never find out: not about them, not about any of it, not about Shiro.

To see him near-cowering left Keith with a sick sensation, the same that lurked within him whenever he thought about Shiro's wings being clipped.

But he steeled himself regardless, pressing on.  They made it outside the palace gates and into the darkening evening.  Keith exhaled a sigh of relief.  As it grew later, it would be even more difficult to distinguish Shiro, even as the lights of the city below began to ignite.

They steered a hard right, in the direction of the speeders.  This took them close to the cliffside that was the edge of the Imperial district, a breathtaking vista over the countryside that deliberately reminded the Galra of how much their Emperor ruled, how much power he possessed.

And it was near where the speeders were stored, as well, for thrillseeking nobility to keep their vehicles and take them speeding off the edge, pushing the limits of their hover capability.

He spotted the building, relief settling, in his bones.  Just a few more moments, and they could arrange something—Shiro punching him, knocking him out, and stealing the speeder.

"Pardon!"

Keith ignored the call, quickening his step the tiniest bit, not missing the small inhalation of Shiro's breath behind him.

"Pardon me, sir!"

Keith ignored it, continuing on—

Straight into one of the Galra guards, holding up his poleaxe to stop them from passing.

"Begging your pardon, My Lordship," he said, voice and expression apologetically, "but we're to investigate every Avian slave that passes the grounds.  Emperor's orders."

Another inhalation from Shiro, and Keith could practically feel the fear radiating off of him.  To keep him from catching the guard's attention, Keith drew himself up, lifting his chin, eyes flashing.

"Emperor's _orders?_ " he snapped, in the imperious tone that he hated, that felt so foreign, but he had learned very early on got him what he needed.  "Do you have any idea who I am?"

The guard's eyes flicked to someone behind Keith, and with a sinking sensation, Keith heard the footsteps of at least two more walking up behind him.

"I... I do, My Lord, but... Emperor Zarkon said that no one was to be an exception.  Not even His Highness himself.  The Prince wasn't happy either, but he understood."

"Well, I don't," Keith snapped, lips twisting in disdain.  "I have places to be, and I expect you to stay out of my way.  If His Imperial Majesty wants my property investigated, he can have his _personal_ guards do it himself."

The guard shifted, but didn't move, and Keith risked a glance behind himself: three more, standing there with the same determined pose at the first.

Shit.

"I sincerely apologize, I do, but we have to—"

"I don't _care_ what you have to do."  Keith made to step around him before any of them could decide to make a scene.

It looked like they were going to let this one pass, too, for now: Keith's ability with an extensive variety of weapons was legendary, and though he had never considered himself particularly cruel, a quiet and reclusive demeanor usually meant that others created that impression for you.

There would undoubtedly be questions about which Avian slave Keith had been leading across the grounds when this encounter caught up with him.  But he would worry about that later, because by then, Shiro would be safe.

"Come, slave," he drawled, tone still imperious, and gave Shiro's leash a yank.  Not too hard, but just for show.  After all, Shiro likely wanted to be out of there even worse than Keith.

But he didn't move.

Keith whirled, schooling his expression into annoyance.  He didn't want to hurt Shiro, after all, but if he played the part of the recalcitrant slave, Keith would have to match the performance with that of the cruel owner.

But Shiro wasn't paying attention to Keith at all.  He didn't even seem to have noticed the guards.

His eyes had locked onto a figure, dozens of yards away, but distinct in the distance.  And Shiro's eyes had gone wide, his entire demeanor stiff, wings bristling out in a fearful way Keith had only ever seen once before.

"Sh—Jiro, Keith demanded, yanking again.  "Pay attention to your master, or you'll suffer for it."

The guards around them had started to shuffle again, and Keith could see their window of opportunity quickly vanishing.

On an impulse, he turned to see who had so captured Shiro's attention as to risk his freedom.

And then Keith froze as well.

"Sendak," he breathed, and the word seemed to shake Shiro out of his stupor.

"A-apologies, master," Shiro stammered, coming back to attention, hunching in on himself.  "I won't... I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Useless," Keith spat, yanking again on the leash savagely, internally hating himself for it.  "Come.  _Now._ "

"My Lord."  One of the guards behind them had spoken up this time, tone a bit more stern.  Keith glanced over to see a female Galra, frame bigger than the guard in front of him, and he quickly turned away.

"Take this up with my father."  Keith waved his hand dismissively, then made to step around them again—

" _There he is!_ "

The words, howled in fury, echoed across the grounds, and the guards jumped nearly as high as Keith and Shiro did.  Sendak had turned towards them and was now dashing in their direction, pointing, mouth twisted in fury, followed by a cadre of guards running along behind him.

"My Lord," the second guard said, tone stern, poleaxe raised.  "Drop the leash and lift your hands.  By authority of the Emperor."

Keith rolled his eyes, sighing, beginning to lift his hands with the leash still in it...

Then dropped it and shoved Shiro to the side, out of reach of the guards.  " _Run!_ "

Shiro bolted like a shot, Keith close behind, and the guards’ confusion  worked in their favor, giving them a valuable lead of a few seconds.  Though Shiro had spent quite some time concealed in the wine cellar, he had lost none of his athleticism, and Keith had never gone a week without spending at least half of it in the training yards.  Their pursuers might have been able to match pace, but catch up?  Not a chance.

The shouting behind them intensified, and Keith's heart somersaulted at the sound: they had gained more pursuers.

"Right!" Keith yelped.  "Keep going—speeders are in the building there—!"

But as they rounded the curve of the palace, Keith's stomach sank.

Someone had beamed a message ahead.  A line of Imperial guards stood there,crossbows leveled, cutting them off.

But Shiro began to slow, and—and _no._  Keith couldn't let that happen.  He couldn't let Shiro be caught.  He didn't care if he died here, stuck with a thousand arrows, but Shiro _had_ to survive.  The world would be so much lesser without him.

He paused next to Shiro, grabbing at his wrist and trying to pull him along—he didn't know where, but they would find _something._  "Don't stop!"

"There's nowhere to go, Keith," Shiro panted raggedly, backing away, and this time, he was the one dragging Keith along.  "There's only one way."

Keith's eyes flicked to Shiro's heels, backing towards the edge of the cliff, and he was seized by the urge to be sick right there.

"Shiro, no..." he begged, lifting deep purple eyes to meet gray ones.

"We don't have a choice," Shiro whispered, hand reaching out to cup Keith's face.

Keith remembered something Shiro had said, once, soon after they had met.

_"Sometimes," he had breathed, eyes lifted longingly to the clear, blue sky, "I understand why you almost did it.  I don’t know what keeps me from it, sometimes.”  He had turned to Keith, then, smiling crookedly.  “But then you remind me why I stay.”_

It had horrified Keith at the time.  But as he turned to take in the sight of their pursuers, Keith found himself overwhelmed by the same hopelessness that had nearly drowned him the day he and Shiro had met.

Within him, somewhere, Keith knew that Shiro was right.  But—if that was going to be the case, if they were going to go down together, then he'd be damned if he left this world with things unsaid.

Turning back to Shiro, leaning into the touch on his face, Keith reached up to twine his arms around Shiro's neck, pulling him in.  As their lips met, Keith kissed him desperately, the longing and heartache of years bleeding through.

With a distant thrill that overrode even the fear, Keith realized that Shiro's arms had wrapped around Keith's waist—and that Shiro was kissing him back.

They finally broke free, the sounds of what had to be at least half of the Imperial Guard closing in on them, and Keith met Shiro's eyes once again.

"I love you," he breathed, and from the sorrowful expression in Shiro's eyes, he knew within every fiber of his being that Shiro felt the same.

"Do you trust me?" Shiro breathed, pressing their foreheads together, the anguish of so many years that would never be spent together weighing his voice, lingering between them.

"Always," Keith whispered back.

Shiro's strong arms wrapped around Keith's waist, pulling him close, and Keith dazedly realized that they were right next to the cliff.  Keith locked eyes with Shiro, knowing that he wanted that face to be the last thing he ever saw

And then they were over it, hurtling the hundreds of feet towards the ground.

Keith had wanted to watch Shiro the entire time, but the unrelenting terror of their imminent death screwed his eyes shut, and he could only cling—

And then a jerk, a jolt of his stomach, and he seemed to be floating.

There was, surprisingly, no pain.  Had it been that fast?  Was it all over, and was Keith going to spend eternity with Shiro’s arms around him?

_Thump.  Thump.  Thump._

Was that a heartbeat?

He finally forced his eyes open, and as he spotted the ground still rushing beneath them, let out a strangled cry.

But after a moment, he realized—it didn’t seem to be getting any closer.  He gasped and twisted, turning to look behind him, and was met with Shiro’s strong shoulder pressing against his cheek.

And behind it, one long, glorious, brilliant white wing extended across the night sky.

“ _Shiro!_ ” he gasped, hands darting up to grip the strong arms holding him tightly.  “You… you’re…”

“Yeah,” came the laugh, as disbelieving as Keith felt, but there was a glee to it, as well.  “I don’t even _care_ that it hurts.”

Keith let out a matching, breathless laugh, and he twisted to check behind them.  No lights; no sign of their pursuers.  Evidently they hadn’t been able to get to the speeders quickly enough to give chase.

Shiro was free.

And so, Keith realized with a strange, floating sensation that wasn’t just from flying, was he.  Free of a cage that he had never known existed, not comparable to Shiro’s, but a cage all the same.

“Where are we going?” he asked, trying not to let the fear bleed into his voice, the fear that Shiro would drop him off somewhere and leave and never look back.

But the warm squeeze of Shiro’s arms around Keith reassured him that would never happen.

“We’re going home.”


End file.
